Interludes of Sanity
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: AU All Human! "Dreams are dangerous things, things that can cause ourselves and others harm, if they're not controlled." Because when Myrnin can't tell the difference between reality and a dream, everyone involved is doomed. R&R. /not romance


**AN:** canon compliant, on the whole, with most of Midnight Alley, though the dialogue is different as I haven't memorised the conversations. Non compliant after most of Feast of Fools.

I don't own anything.

Please review if you read.

Very slight ClaireMyrnin, but this is mainly an AU fic, focused on the ravagings of Myrnin's confused and unsure mind.

* * *

"Myrnin?" Claire Danvers' voice is gentle as her hands move to his shoulders, shaking them slightly in order to try and rouse the sleeping man. "Myrnin, can you hear me? It's time to wake up."

His eyes shoot open suddenly, dark irises around wide, dilated pupils, and immediately he begins to look around at the setting in which he is in, as though it's some foreign place – he takes in the sterile, clinical setting, with all linens pure white and there being some sort of drip feeding into his arm. "Where am I?" he chokes out through a throat that hurts to breathe with, let alone to speak through. "I…I don't understand. I'm asleep, dreaming…I…my lab…" he trails off, confusion spreading over his face because _where is he?_

Nothing makes sense to Myrnin; he was in his lab, fighting the waves of insanity that threatened to overcome him, and he fell asleep—and now he's here. Now he's somewhere he doesn't recognise, somewhere which has a girl standing over him who he's never met before (he doesn't _think_) and it's too confusing for him.

"Myrnin, _this_ is reality," the nurse says to him, her eyes focused on his – he can tell that they're gentle and kind, but isn't that the expression one has for those who are very sick? "You've been dreaming, thrashing around and saying…saying things that aren't true."

And it's in this moment that he can tell what's going on. In _his_ reality, he's Myrnin, Lord of Conwy, a vampire with more than one thousand years to his name, someone suffering with the vampire version of Alzheimer's. He's an alchemist, someone rash and impulsive – and he's the friend of the Founder of Morganville, Amelie.

Here, he's merely some man who can't accept that the reality is in this hospital, wherever he goddamn is, because vampires don't exist.

"You're wrong," he tells her in his rasping voice, wanting to beg for something to drink, but not daring to, because it would be wrong to ask for blood, right? That's what he needs to soothe his throat, to make him feel as though he isn't going to rip the throat of his nurse out. "_This_ is a dream, because—because I'm _Myrnin_, and I'm a vampire! I'm someone who you should be scared of, not…not someone you should be trying to cure in a human hospital!"

The nurse sighs, and shakes her head, seeming as though her patience with this is running thin. "I'm Claire, Myrnin, remember? You've been here for three years now, and you're not getting any better. You're dreaming; you have episodes that last a couple of weeks at a time, ones that make you think you're a vampire in Morganville. But you're not. You're just a normal man."

"Prove it," he tries to challenge her, because he's as bright a man here as he is in Morganville – after all, dreams can't make him stupid, can they? "Prove that this is the real world, that I'm not a vampire and that—that I'm crazy."

"I can't do much for the first one, and the last one you're not crazy, not really, Myrnin; we have conversations, remember?" Claire sits down on the bed beside him, and takes one of his hands in comfort. "You're very intelligent…and you can challenge almost anything I say, and back it up. But for you being a vampire…well, look left, Myrnin. That's all I can suggest."

Slowly, he does as she asks him to, turning his head to see a machine that seems to be monitoring a heart rate – but it can't be his, can it? He's a vampire, so he doesn't have a heartbeat, even in his dreams…does he? And yet the monitor is analysing _him_, because as he looks at it, he grows more and more anxious – he's been _wrong_, this is reality! – and the rate corresponds to this change. He grows scared and frustrated at the same time, because he's not crazy, he can't be, and yet everything is saying that he is.

"It can't be true!" he turns back to Claire, tears in his eyes, and finds himself breaking down, no longer fuelled on by his belief that he's a vampire, because this doesn't make sense, right? This is supposed to be just a dream – but it can't be, it seems far too realistic. "You're wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong!"_ he's screaming by the end of this, hurting his throat more and more, yet he doesn't care because _he_ is right, and that's the truth.

Claire leans forwards and presses one hand to his forehead, her eyes resting on his to try and make him calm down. "_Myrnin_! You can't—you need to accept that you're human, that you're in the hospital in London and that you need help to get through this. Otherwise…otherwise we can't be together, and you don't want that, right?" she's desperate by the end, desperate for him to remember falling in love with her in those brief moments when he's not certain he's a vampire, in the moments when he's arguing with her about anything and everything he possibly can. She needs him as much as he needs her, and it pains her to see him unable to accept her.

Unfortunately for her, all her words do is make him utilise these brilliant brains and try and find another reason why this _is_ the dream world, and why Morganville is real. "If I'm in London, as you say," he begins, calming down, even as other doctors race towards the room to sedate him 'for his own well-being', "then why do you have a Texan accent?"

She doesn't reply before the red-headed doctor pulls her away to allow him to inject something into the tube in Myrnin's arm, sending waves of some drug through his body, and allowing him to sink back into the world that he calls his reality.

_~x~_

He wakes up with a start, his head resting on a pile of leather bound books, drool dripping down onto the cover of the topmost one. Almost immediately, he allows his fangs to drop, his easiest confirmation that he _is_ a vampire, that he is in Morganville and that this is real. He's right, he _has_ to be, because otherwise, what would all the years have been? Would it just have been an elaborate dream, one that seems to have stretched out so that he has lived each and every day for one thousand years, when reality has perhaps passed through three or four of these days?

That _can't_ be right, for how could a dream be so realistic?

(He tries to forget how realistic the other dream was, the one with Claire and the hospital and his humanity…and the way that he knows he feels something for the girl in the dream.)

Racing around his lab, he tries to find more proof, but can't discover anything other than that blood tastes _very_ nice, and that the human who finds themselves lured into his lab is scared of him, screaming until Myrnin breaks his neck. There's nothing but the books he's amassed throughout the years, and his more recent journals, ones which contain all of his work on the curing of this disease that continues to try and destroy him. Evidently, he's being destroyed in both his reality _and_ his dream, no matter which one is which.

Trying his best to put aside the fact that this may or may not be a dream, Myrnin begins to try and focus on the cure, reading books he hasn't looked through in a while (he thinks) in order to try and recall random titbits of information that could aid him in his saving the vampire race. Work has always been an escape route for him, one that has allowed him to focus solely on alchemy and science, and it will be the one way that allows him to forget the nurse, Claire, and anything to do with him being hospitalised.

Or, at least, he hopes.

He hopes that he'll be allowed to continue working on a cure, hopes that Amelie won't come by and set him another deadline, because she _knows_ how much he hates her trying to control something that he can barely comprehend himself. She's been coming by more frequently, recently, and that's something that scares him, because it means she's either building up to him having a cure, or telling him that it's all over, that she's going to let their race die out because he has failed her.

Something most certainly unexpected is what happens.

In the corner of the laboratory, Myrnin sits, reading a book, when the portal opens, Amelie walking through it, along with—is that a _human_ he can smell? "Myrnin? It's me, I've brought the girl I was telling you about; she's here to work with you."

And behind Amelie is the girl who Myrnin knows from his dream, or the actual reality, the one with the Texan accent that seemed so out of place in a London hospital, the girl who could make or break whether he's in the reality now, or he is in London. It's Claire.

"Her name is Claire Danvers, and she is to be your apprentice," Amelie continues without him even speaking, and this is one of the times that he's desperate for her to change her mind, for her to reconsider this, because she shines so brightly. She shines brighter than she did before, probably because his vampire senses aren't dulled here, and he knows that her life will end somewhere down the line, if she's forced to work with him.

"No," he retorts, but the glare Amelie gives him makes him sure that she's not going to allow him to avoid working with Claire. Here, she's a bright girl, apparently, someone who has memorised science well, as shown by her answering of the questions he throws at her – but he needs someone with at least a basic understanding of alchemy…and yet that is something he isn't going to get.

"Take the key!" he finds himself saying as he slams his back behind the door, the rest of the conversation with Amelie and Claire having turned into a blur, because he doesn't actually understand what is going on. No longer is his mind ravaged by the beast inside of him, the one intensified by the disease, but he has to try and comprehend whether or not he's in the real world _here_, or in the hospital. "You're responsible for me now, Claire! You must keep me safe. You must keep me safe from everything and anything that could hurt me." He doesn't add onto the ends the next words, preferring to leave them in his mind: _even if that's myself._

_~x~_

It hurts his head to wake up in the warm bed, and he realises quicker than perhaps a normal person does that it's because of the drugs still in his system. As his eyes open, he grows familiar with his surroundings quicker than he did the first time – or, according to Claire, one of many wakings up during the three years of his stay – and doesn't react quite so extremely to the fact that he still has a heartbeat here.

"You're awake," Claire says softly, taking a step towards him from her position near one of his machines. "It's been a few hours, Myrnin, so are you ready to talk yet?"

He doesn't understand why she's still here – surely she should have other patients to deal with; his knowledge of human hospitals in the other world is that the nurses are always running around, trying desperately to treat as many patients as they can. But he appreciates the friendly face, even if it is confusing since he only just set her other self so much reading to do, because he gets the feeling that she cares for him—and that he cares for her, too.

"Who am I?" he asks one of the simplest, yet most pressing questions—if he's not Myrnin of Conwy, then who is he?

"You're Myrnin," Claire replies simply, sitting on the bed like she did before. "You're twenty five years old – your birthday was last month – and you originally come from a small village in Wales. Your parents died when you were young, and you were brought up by a scientist relative, I forget the details. They brought you in here three years ago, saying that they couldn't have you in the world any longer, thinking that you're—that you're a vampire. And they left you, and we haven't seen or heard from them since."

That makes sense to Myrnin, sounding a little like the back story from his other world, but then there's the pressing issue: money. "But if they haven't been in contact, you don't know their name," he points out, "and you'd know that if they were paying. So who is paying for me to stay here? I'm guessing _someone_, for our good state would have sent me to an institution for incurable people a long time ago, if it was at their expense."

The reminder that Myrnin knows about the Government and their policies makes Claire smile, for she thinks that he can remember some things, right? Or maybe it's just that he's—no, she won't think like that. It's best to be positive. "You're right; they disappeared, and didn't pay for a penny. But the owners of this hospital are acquainted with you – or, at least Mrs Glass is. She says that she knows you from when you were a child, and that your friendship was what had gotten her through some rough times, so she insisted on allowing you to stay here for free. Her husband is the one who is in charge of your care, the one who came in earlier and injected you."

Again, Myrnin finds this a plausible explanation; everything makes as much sense in this world as he finds the other one…but there's something _comforting_ about Morganville and his being a vampire, something that this world doesn't have. Here, he's expected to behave like a proper human being, to have _humanity_, whereas he's at the top of the food chain in Morganville. He answers to nobody but Amelie there, and that's something that he relishes. Here, he's nothing.

"And…how do I know you?"

"I've been treating you for three years, solely you for the past two and a half, when it became clear that I could get through to you in a way that only Mrs Glass could manage before," Claire replies, her voice soft once again as her hand rests on top of his. "It isn't right, that we've been…close, and we can't tell anyone because then I would get in a lot of trouble, but it's helped me get through to you in the past."

Now, he's getting confused. "So…I'm in love with you?" he tries to comprehend, but he doesn't quite manage to get the feelings side of humanity, so instead he shuffles around in his bed. "Is that right?"

Claire smiles ever so slightly, yet it's one of the smiles that are designed to try and hide the feeling of being hurt. "Evidently not right now, but yes, you did. And I loved you because of who you are on the inside, once you get past not understanding."

Suddenly, anger builds inside of Myrnin because the way that she's talking, it sounds as though he's got to have the craziness stripped away from him to then leave a normal man – he's brilliant right the way through, something he's always known about himself, and that's not going to change now, not for Claire. He wants to try and calm down, to talk to Claire and find out what he's like (if he's like _anything_ in this world, once his knowledge that he's a vampire is stripped away from him) but that isn't going to happen, so he tells her something he knows she won't have heard before.

"You…in Morganville, in my lab, you were there," he whispers, his eyes on hers. "I'm not lying; Amelie brought you to me, to work as my assistant in the curing of the disease. And you were…you were younger, maybe sixteen or seventeen. You were _there_, Claire.

"Now tell me that that world isn't real."

**.**

At first, she doesn't believe him; Claire believes that he's just adapting because he loves her – he knows that now he's thought about memories of this world, though it still doesn't make sense to him – and that she's sinking into all aspects of his life, but he works on persuading her that he's right.

"You were there, and you'll be there when I go back, ready to grow up and help me," he presses, but she manages to resist his charm (the one that she's been unable to resist for the past year or so) and get past his intriguing recollection of his sleep, to tell him otherwise.

"You were dreaming, and that's the end of it!" she snaps, for the first time being harsh with her patient. "Can we not just work on your feelings, your…_humanity_, because that's what we're meant to be doing? I want you to be able to leave this hospital and to come home with me, rather than you living here for the rest of your life." Her tone is pleading, and Myrnin agrees to her request, allowing himself to learn about the humanity he unwillingly shed many years ago, and to understand how he ought to feel.

Something tells him that it could help him in the other (real) world, and that's the only reason he puts up with it.

_~x~_

He's back in Morganville.

Things happen for a while that seem to just blur together—this version of Claire comes to the lab, he almost kills her and then Amelie visits him to put him in a cage—but then he's forced to remember the humanity he once had, the humanity he was reminded of in the London hospital with his nurse (he can't say Claire, not here with the other Claire) when Claire has to come to the lab without Sam.

He's beginning to make parallels with the other world as he sits in his cage, and that startles him, because that makes things so much more confusing: if one of these worlds is real and the other is a fake, then how can he tell if Amelie is in both, playing a similar role, along with others? How can one be distinguished as reality if they're both as realistic as the other? He recognises Sam as his doctor, for some reason, Amelie as his wife, Claire as his nurse…and then others, vampires he's once had a cause to know, who make up the rest of the hospital, flitting inbetween the scene with little relevance or impact on his life.

"Don't, Myrnin; you don't want to hurt me!" Claire pleads with him as he grabs her, all ready to bite her neck and drain her dry, until he remembers humanity. He recalls that he shouldn't hurt people, that he is supposed to _love_ others and that this girl is someone who should never be caused harm by him. As to the rest of it, he doesn't recall much other than that to hurt Claire is to hurt himself, so he shouldn't do it.

And that's why he lets her go.

"You very nearly died tonight, child," he tells her as he moves across the room, trying desperately to stay away from her for fear of hurting her again. Things learned in the other world may not order him here, after all, and if she stays too close, the tears forming in his eyes may be overcome by the hunger in his throat. Claire Danvers is far too delectable for his liking, and this situation almost has him wanting to go to the other world, just so that he doesn't run the risk of harming little Claire.

In London, Claire is stronger, older and wiser—he couldn't hurt her there, he doesn't think.

"I'm going to save you," Claire whispers from across the room, and he tries to block her out, because to think of her now would be to make himself cry even more than he already is. "You're not going to die, Myrnin, let me assure you of that."

Not long after she leaves the lab, he finds himself collapsing once again, transporting back to London and the hospital, safe in the knowledge that he hasn't hurt Claire…yet.

_~x~_

Time passes in the hospital, and yet he doesn't grow less certain that he's in a dream – in fact, he grows more and more adamant that Morganville is real, just because of Claire. He argues that her presence there means that the town in the middle of the desert is reality, and that him being in a sun-filled private hospital in England's capital city, one owned by someone he used to know, is just a dream.

"But if that's the case," Claire reminds him gently, her eyes filling with tears, "then how am _I_ here also? Would I not only be in one? And since I was here first, does that not make this reality?"

"No," he is forceful in his response, striding across his room to look at the setting sun: it's something that he's missed in Morganville, to observe the sun without pain, and yet he would rather not have the sun and have his vampire self. "You are more important in my other world, Claire; you're someone who can save us all, whereas here, you're only fighting a losing battle to bring me back somewhere I never was supposed to be. And I don't understand how you can't accept that I'm right!"

There's a knock at the door before it opens: Sam Glass, Myrnin's doctor, something that he's never taken seriously given his counterpart in Morganville. "Still dreaming of fanged vampire slippers, are we Myrnin?" he's cheerful as he enters, trying to keep the friendly façade going with the patient. He would never confess that he's already told his wife that he's sorry, but Myrnin is a lost cause, that he's been lost to the realms of insanity for too long for the human world to do anything for him.

"Dreams are important things, and yet they can make oneself doubt one's ideas," Myrnin replies haughtily, noticing how Claire suddenly becomes much more formal as soon as the doctor arrives – their hidden romance has blossomed, even with his insistence that Morganville is real, and sometimes he can understand how he loves her.

"Dreams are dangerous things, things that can cause ourselves and others harm, if they're not controlled," Sam replies, for once his tone completely serious. "Dreams can cause ourselves the most pain possible, and they can even be the downfall of the most important of people. Myrnin, dreams are something not to be taken seriously…they can damage us, sometimes forever, and—" he trails off, realising what he's said, yet Myrnin knows what the end would be.

"And you know that I'm already damaged beyond repair," he says, smiling ever so slightly. "I quite agree, doctor. This dream is damaging my vampire self more than you could know…also, just so you are aware, you look and smell _far_ better in Morganville than you do here."

He pretends not to notice the exasperation—and sadness—that crosses both Claire and the doctor's faces in response to his speech.

_~x~_

Life in Morganville has become that much tougher, after such a long stint in London, for Myrnin. He doesn't see how he can carry on the way he has done, because things mingle together: sometimes, he sees Amelie the way she is in Morganville – others, he sees her how she is when she comes to visit him in his room in her hospital. And nothing could be more confusing than that, even as Bishop begins to take over the town and he's required to be in Amelie's confidence more than he has for the past seventy years combined.

He works with Claire, but he tries to distance himself as much as possible, instead throwing himself into work—but it's hard. Still, he finds himself recalling conversations with her older self about her life, how she's come to love him, and everything that he hasn't discussed here, and it leaves him more confused as to which world is which.

Soon, he has to make a decision as to which one he thinks is real, and he has to find a way to break away from the other world, because he can't do it anymore. He can't be forced to think that this is real, and then have people telling him that Morganville is a figment of his imagination, because he's reaching the point of complete meltdown, and that isn't good in either world.

So, as he prepares for the Welcoming Feast for Bishop, already aware that he shall be going there before Claire comes to ask him, he knows that the next time he's in London, he'll be doing things that he would regret if that was real.

(Morganville is his home, somewhere he never wants to leave, and that's why he thinks that it's more substantial and real than the hospital is.)

_~x~_

"I love you," Claire whispers to Myrnin as he wakes up, her eyes soft and open, yet with the hints of sadness that makes him think she's about to do something that will hurt him. "But I can't deal with you being like this…you're not getting better. All you're doing is getting more and more obsessed with the fact that you're a vampire. And the worrying thing is that you're so sure, you're making me doubt myself and my belief that this is real! I can't do it anymore."

"So you're breaking….breaking up with me?" he asks, frowning as he swings his legs out from beneath the quilt. This is the perfect time to do something he would regret if this was real, because if she's leaving, it can't be real, right? Claire, his apparent _soul mate_, wouldn't leave him if she was real, would she?

"I'm no longer your nurse," she says, not answering the question. "And…yes. If you're not better now, you're not going to get better, that's what the doctors all say. And I can't…I can't live my life waiting for you to get better, Myrnin, because you're never going to be different than this. I've done all I can; I can't do anything more to save you."

He half expects her to say, _I'm sorry_.

She doesn't.

"I'm sorry that you feel like that, Claire," he says, his voice breaking slightly because even though this is a dream, he shouldn't be doing things like this. "And I'm sorry for this."

He stalks across the room, the scalpel she set aside on the drawers in his hand (_"I've never desired to self-harm, and I never will_," is what he said to make her relax about leaving sharp things around him) and he covers her mouth before she can scream.

The blade sticks itself into her carotid artery on the side of her neck, causing gushes of blood to spray the walls, arterial spray patterns forming everywhere – Claire's blood even splashes Myrnin, and like the vampire he is, he finds himself drinking the liquid that finds itself heading towards his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he repeats as the blood begins to cease spraying, Claire no longer struggling to free herself. "But this was the only way that we could be together in Morganville, Claire. It's the only way that I could prove to you that vampires are real."

He promptly heads back to his bed and tucks himself in, not caring about the blood soaked clothes he's wearing, because sleep usually brings him Morganville.

And today, it most certainly does.

_~x~_

As soon as he realises where he is – in his lab, analysing the blood sample he acquired from Bishop when he…was in London – he tries to find Claire. He needs to tell her how he feels, how he's been so confused but he knows that if they're good for one another in the dream world, they'll be perfect for one another here. That's how his logic works out, anyway, and he doesn't have to wait _too_ long before Claire is arriving after him.

"How could you do that?" she demands of him, and it takes a few seconds for him to understand just _what_ he's done (running off and leaving Claire, along with all the others) because he doesn't remember it. "Amelie's been staked and you…all you could do was run off!"

That grasps his attention for less than a second, because the more pressing issue now is about Claire and himself – he already knows, somehow, that Bishop's blood will be the cure, that there isn't a need to analyse it, because he already _knows_. "Claire, I require speaking with you most imminently. It's about…it's about me."

"There's no time to have vain panic attacks, Myrnin!" she snaps back at him, and it hurts, it really does. "We're now in a war, and you can't just run off like that. It's dangerous for us all, truly."

He smiles ever so slightly and inclines his head towards her, turning to face Claire as he does so. "You have my word, I will not leave your side once more," he promises, lifting his head to look her in the eyes. "And yet I must speak with you, Claire. I…I have struggled, these past years it seems, to ascertain whether this is my reality, or another scenario in London is. During times of insanity here, I have been dragged to London, as part of a dream sequence, and it made me realise something…"

"What did it make you realise?" Claire asks eagerly, taking a step forwards to be closer to Myrnin as she does so, for she's mistaken about what he realised. "Did you figure out a cure, or something? Is that why it's taken so long; it had to wait until the human world was developed enough?"

As he shakes his head, the smile drops off her face. "No…_you_ were there, Claire; you had been there for me for so long that I began to realise that you were necessary in my real life as well. You may not realise it, but you're saving me; you're bringing me back my humanity, one little bit at a time, and I don't know where I would be now without you." He doesn't know if she'll understand what he's trying to say, but he needn't worry; she's not Claire Danvers without being able to translate what people are saying.

"Are you saying…that you _love_ me?" she chokes out, and he nods feverishly, his eye glowing. "Myrnin…I don't know what to say. After all, I barely _know_ you…I…you're sick. You don't know—"

"I know exactly what I'm saying, Claire. I may still be ill from this disease, yet I know what I'm saying, when it regards how one feels," he retorts, his voice slightly stiff. "And I know that I have certain feelings for yourself."

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unsure about what to say, and this could have been alright – if Myrnin wasn't the vampire she's with. If she had been with someone who was not suffering from the disease in such an advanced state, then perhaps she would have been allowed to make up her own mind about what to do. As it is, Myrnin can feel the insanity in _this_ realm, not the one between here and the dream world, taking over, threatening to destroy Claire – and so he decides to do perhaps the most idiotic thing he can.

He reaches out to kiss her.

It isn't like kissing the older Claire; it's more confusing and hasty, something that is more momentous because it causes a sort of separating of his brain; one half is almost as though Myrnin is human, able to feel everything that Claire feels, able to act as though he possesses a beating heart.

The other side is the beast without limitation; it's completely free of its restraints that he would normally be able to cast over it – whichever side wins control of his body dictates whether Claire continues to breathe once this kiss is over.

Everything is different compared to how it was before, and words cannot be used to quantify the change; she is younger, more naïve, not in love with Myrnin, he supposes – all things which could lead to this difference in her actions…and here, in Morganville, Myrnin is more dangerous, less stable, someone who could kill her within an instant. She's strong enough to break him, that much is certain—that much is _obvious_—because one word from her here could cause him to melt. If she dies, then he dies also, because he cannot live without her.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what happens.

When their lips break apart and Claire is about to speak, Myrnin realises that the feelings have gone; no longer is he in control of his body – he's controlled by the beast, the monster which desires to destroy Claire and not leave a trace of her behind. He wants her _in_ him, wants to feel her blood trickling down his throat, leaving an unforgettable taste within his taste buds.

"Myrnin," she says his name, realising what he's about to do, "Myrnin, no, don't! Please!" she begs him, but that only makes him move faster, his hands reaching out to grab her by the throat, his fangs sinking in preparation to consume his feast of human girl.

She's dead within thirty seconds.

Not long after her body slumps to the ground does Myrnin manage to sort his thoughts out, to understand the implications of what he's just done—he's just _killed_ Claire. In both worlds, he's killed her…he's killed the woman he loves. And he can't live without her.

"I've killed her," he says aloud, picking up Claire's body and rocking it gently, tears streaming down his face. "I've killed her. Is this a dream or is it reality? Oh Claire, I don't know…I don't know anymore." His voice is thick with tears that flow down onto the girl's face, and guilt wracks him…but more than that, it destroys him. As he speaks, he can feel himself ripping into pieces, being dispersed in the wind that doesn't exist, because he said that he would kill himself if she died, didn't he?

As he thinks this, he's reminded of what his doctor said in the world he thought was a dream—but maybe it's reality now. _"Dreams are dangerous things, things that can cause ourselves and others harm, if they're not controlled,"_ and only now does Myrnin know that he's been telling the truth. All the way through the treatment he went through, he should have realised that he should have ended the double world long before, and prior to now, he was _certain_ that this is the real world—but what if it isn't? What if London, with its traffic jams, Queen and humanity, is the real world, and all he did was destroy it, when he killed Claire?

There's only way that he can think to do it; if he kills himself here, he either goes to heaven with Claire if it's real, or he returns to London, which is his real world. If he returns, then he'll know that he killed Claire to return to a dream, in which case he must die. If he goes to wherever one goes after death, then he knows that this was the real world and that he killed Claire because he was unable to control himself.

Taking a deep breath, Myrnin reaches for the petrol and the lighter on the side, and prepares to commit something he swore he would never do.

When he swore it, he hadn't fallen in love.

_~x~_

As soon as his eyes open once again, he realises that everything has been a mistake. His entire life has been a mistake; he's been dreaming of being a vampire, when he's actually been a human being. He's destroyed everything because he couldn't accept a dream and a real world—and he's killed Claire for it.

Her body is still on the floor of his room, him still wearing the blood covered clothes and holding the scalpel that killed her. Myrnin moves to stand up and finds himself sinking to his knees as he comprehends what he's done; he's killed her, twice, because he was unable to understand the difference between a dream and reality.

His hand doesn't shake as the scalpel lifts to his throat and cuts across.

Myrnin slumps sideways, landing mere centimetres from Claire, and his last move is to place one hand on top of her own, and whisper, _"I'm sorry._"

* * *

**AN2: **I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite/alert without reviewing.

& please review if you've read!

Vicky xx


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